During these last days...

On Wednesday night I completely melted. I gave way to the instability of hormones, life changes and motherhood sensitivity. And it all started because Bruce was eating a beef and cheese taco, ALL BY HIM SELF.

Kiel started the conversation that is impossible to avoid, with my ever growing belly reminding us of the inevitable.

"We are going to have a new baby soon" He said nonchalantly

"I know." I agreed

"Are you excited?" He asked

"Yes and no." I pushed my dinner back and forth with my fork and looked up. He was waiting for me to explain.

"I'm sad for Bruce, we are totally messing up his perfect life. Pretty soon he is going to wake up and there will be a new baby. There is no way to warn him, no way to help him understand what is going to be here soon. One day he will be the only child, the next he won't. He won't get the attention he DESERVES anymore."

Kiel, who is always so logical and rational when I am illogical and irrational simply replied "Giving him a sibling is not going to mess up his life."

But I started to cry anyway. Somehow my brain or heart or whatever couldn't compute how it would all work out. I'm not concerned with loving two precious babies at once but how would he know I still loved him when my affection was going to be split? How could I say goodbye to a time in my life shared only with my son and no one else? Those busy mornings and slow afternoons just the two of us with cheese and juice and fishy crackers--gone forever?

It felt like prepartum depression.

I cried until I went to bed.

The next day Kiel was home and I made him put together Bruce's car at 9 in the morning. Bruce of course needed to be involved in every step (all 38 of them to be exact.) Once it was all put together we took Bruce for a stroll around the neighborhood. He was beyond thrilled. He turned the key, back and forth and back and forth again. He moved the steering wheel. He beeped the horn. And he stuck his arms out like he was riding an airplane as Kiel went super fast down the street.

After nap time, we decided that this day would be the day we got Bruce a big boy car seat.

So we packed everyone up and headed out to run errands. Our first stop was the cleaners and then the car wash. While we waited, I bought an astro pop and let Bruce have a bite. He thought it was too cold and didn't want anymore. Kiel took him to the pond so he could see the fish.

We sat down on the brick wall together, Bruce gripped my shirt with his left fist and pointed with his right hand at the fish. "Dat, dat?"

"Those are fish." I said. He just sat and stared, kicking his legs against the brick wall and after what seemed to be an eternity, he turned to me and said "uppeee, upppee."

I turned to Kiel, "Kiel, he wants up." Kiel scooped him up and tossed him in the air. Bruce laughed and wanted more. We then got into our clean car and headed to Walmart.

We speedily walked through the aisles, grabbed some socks for the boy and his car seat. Bruce happily sat in the cart swinging his legs back and forth and eating his grahm bunnies out of a plastic bag, occasionally he would take a sip of water. I quietly thanked God for the short check out line and out the door we went.

I put Bruce up in the front seat with me while Kiel switched out the car seats right there in the parking lot. I let Bruce play with all the buttons, and not one button went untouched. We then buckled him in and Bruce was able to ride in the car forward facing for the first time.

As we drove home, I would glance back at Bruce, his mouth wide open and his eyes so big they looked like they were propped open with match sticks. He watched in awe as traffic lights changed colors, cars drove through intersections and ambulances drove by with sirens.

When we got home it was time to go on another family walk and Bruce went around the block in his car. It was just as enjoyable as it was that morning.

Afterwards, it was time for the same routine; dinner, bath and bed. I sat in the rocking chair, while Kiel put on Bruce's pajamas. Bruce played his piano for a few minutes and then crawled to me for story time. We said prayers and then layed him down. "I hope you had fun today, buddy." And then we left.

And I know he will never remember a second of that day, but I will.

It was all for me anyway.